


A bone to pick

by Syrena_of_the_lake



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Bearded vultures, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 17:24:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21019487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake
Summary: In which Edmund runs afoul of vulture culture.





	A bone to pick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rthstewart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/gifts).

> Bearded vultures “paint” themselves with red soil for display. They are also the only animal whose diet consists mainly of bone. Inspired by Tumblr photos, permalink: https://rthstewart.tumblr.com/post/188322903295/celticpyro-kedreeva

Redbreak was in love.

This was not an emotion many people associated with vultures. Until that morning, Redbreak would have agreed. His parents had mated and separated willingly, with none of the affection that characterized the more sentimental birds. (Eagles, of course. Everyone admired eagles. Stuck up lofty birds, too proud to dig into carrion where everyone could see but not too proud to steal a haunch of meat from a proper scavenger.)

Earlier that morning, Redbreak would have retched with derision at the thought of a monotonous, monogamous mating.

But that was before Marrowsnap. 

Now he found himself frantically scanning the ground for dusty red clay he could bathe in to draw the attention of the most magnificent female he had ever seen crack a tibia. 

“Pale,” she had dismissed him with a scornful look and a single word, punctuated with an impressive snap of her beak and a splintering of bone.

Now Redbreak was determined to ruddy his plumage and live up to his name. Anything to impress the female who had stolen his sense and enticed his senses. 

He’d turn himself so red she couldn’t help but see him every way she turned. He’d paint his feathers with _blood_ if he had to. 

Redbreak’s beard-feathers lifted at the thought. He bet no other vulture had thought of _that_ before. Maybe Marrowsnap could even smell him, then. 

It was a thought worth pursuing. Just like her.

* * *

Edmund massaged his forehead. “I’ll make a Royal Proclamation,” he promised. When the irate Captain of the Guard left, Edmund rather savagely put quill to parchment, wishing the feather had come from a vulture.

_Let it be known_, he wrote, _that no Scavenger of Skies nor Carnivore of Land shall henceforth be permitted to follow Our Royal Army with purpose to plunder for digestion or display. Signed, King Edmund the Just, etc. etc._

“Have a scribe fill out all the titles and other necessary language,” he said with a sigh, “and spread the word among the Wings. Any other young vultures looking for a quick meal or — did he say _paint_?”

Marrowsnap bobbed her shaggy head. “Yes, Sire. Bearded vultures paint themselves red for display.”

Edmund shook his head. Would he ever learn all he needed to know about his subjects?

“Red dirt,” his vulture skyspotter clarified. “Males dust-bathe in red clay. Blood is... not traditional.”

Edmund smiled wryly. “You have an admirer.”

“Oh joy.” No one could convey unbridled disgust quite like a carrion bird. Marrowsnap took the newly inked scroll in her talons and prepared to launch her considerable bulk out the tower window. She paused on the brink of flight. “I apologize, Sire, for being the inadvertent cause of this.”

“Don’t,” Edmund said sharply. “Redbreak’s folly was his own, and is no responsibility of yours.” He shook his head again. “At least he was only shadowing the army, and didn’t actually give insult to anyone’s dead.”

Marrowsnap cut him a sly look. “At least he did not fly all the way to Tashbaan in search of a _bloodbath_.”

Edmund winced, and the vulture swept off with her missive — and, he devoutly hoped, to give a brash young vulture the scare of his life.

He frowned. Then again, it might only increase Redbreak’s devotion.

Romance, Edmund decided, was for the birds.


End file.
